


where'd you go (you were all i've ever known)

by guycecil



Category: Gintama
Genre: M/M, Spoilers through 564, Suicidal Thoughts, sexual content in chapter 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:11:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5348642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guycecil/pseuds/guycecil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As long as I'm around, you can just be Zura. / If you have time to dream of a beautiful death, why not live beautifully till the end? / Your right arm can't carry the burden on its own. From now on I'll be your left arm.<br/>(Responses to prompts from GinZura week 2015.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. childhood

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaaaa I'm gay. Title from "Memories" by Panic! At The Disco. Rating will go up (NSFW content for one day) & there will be spoilers up through current chapters.

Katsura’s memories of Shouka Sonjuku are a mixture of a warm classroom, a warm pair of eyes, and a warm back to his when he fell asleep. He remembers waking to whispers in the middle of the night, rolling over to find Takasugi and Gintoki fighting over a pillow, once again. He remembers sensei’s lessons, Gintoki falling asleep in the back of the class. He remembers endless practice with wooden swords, Gintoki and Takasugi beating each other near death until sensei had to sigh and drag them apart.

He also remembers waking from nightmares -- not just himself, but the others, too, and Gintoki always shook the worst of them, but Katsura was the only one who ever cried. When Takasugi woke, he never wanted their comfort. He always left too soon for them to say anything, as if they didn’t know he was heading straight for sensei.

When Gintoki woke, he shook, tremors that ran up and down his spine like an earthquake. He never made a noise, so silent that it terrified Katsura more than the shaking, and Katsura would reach for him. Gintoki never spoke of what his nightmares held, but Katsura heard enough from the other students to take guesses -- a wandering boy stealing food from corpses certainly had enough to be afraid of.

Katsura’s nightmares were probably more traditional, usually just images of his grandmother’s face interposed over the family grave. The school moved twice since then, and Katsura never had the time (and later, the desire) to return to visit. Sometimes he felt the weight of his parents’ spirits, crushing him, forcing the air out of his lungs, and he woke gasping for air, tears on his face. Gintoki, always a heavy sleeper if his own subconscious didn’t disturb him, never noticed until Katsura’s cold fingers found his skin, and he would always protest in hushed whispers until he finally rolled over and wrapped his arms around Katsura and held him tight until the tears subsided.

Years later, he wakes alone in the back of an abandoned building on the edge of Kabuki-chou, the breath still choked from his lungs, and some part of him still has him reaching for warm skin and silver hair, but all he finds is the edge of his futon. There is a weight on his chest like the weight of his parents’ spirits, but it’s not their faces that haunt his dreams. There is laughter and explosions and a silver katana that weigh him down now, and it still feels like he’s choking when he wakes, but there is nothing to soothe him now. He closes his eyes, breathes heavy and slow, and the feeling subsides.

Elizabeth is sleeping propped upright in the corner, but Katsura doesn’t want to disturb them, so he turns onto his back, keeps breathing. When he closes his eyes again, there is a ghost of silver hair against the black. He keeps breathing.


	2. war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for suicidal ideation, spoilers for chapters 519 and 563.

The teachers at the school Katsura attended with Takasugi taught them that death was a better option than being captured, that dishonor to your general meant death, that failure could not be made up for in any other way. Sensei never spoke about death. Katsura explained to him once, in quiet words, his promise to his grandmother, and sensei’s eyes were gentle as always, and when he rested a hand on Katsura’s head, he knew he would be understood.

“Don’t die,” Takasugi and Gintoki said to each other, and no one ever told Katsura. Logically, he knows this is because they know they don’t have to worry -- if it comes close to it, he will run, they know. But there is also a part of him that aches at the way they walk past each other, the slowness with which they turn away. “Don’t die,” Gintoki whispers one night, when they think he’s asleep, and Katsura’s whole body shakes.

When they’re captured, he can’t find even the energy to cry. He feels raw and hollowed out -- death is a better option than being captured, he knows, but the binds are too tight for him to even wriggle for the tantou under his clothes, and besides, the urge to cut his stomach wars too loudly with the desperation and panic building in his chest, hissing for him to flee.

But Gintoki comes, and sensei dies, and in the night, afterwards, while Takasugi and Gintoki scream at each other somewhere across the camp, Katsura lies on his side and his hands shake so hard with the panic and the loneliness that he has to physically hold himself back from reaching for the tantou. Sakamoto lies, passed out, an arms’ length away, but Katsura doesn’t think he could ever voice aloud what he feels right now.

And on a battlefield, he and Gintoki are surrounded. They both sink to their knees for a moment, skin digging into the mud. He breathes in short, quick bursts, and the only warmth he can feel is what radiates from Gintoki’s back. “Fun, yeah?” Gintoki mumbles. “Looks like this is it.”

Katsura breathes, or tries to. For once, his hands are still. His heart hammers for him to run, but he can’t. Grandmother would understand, he thinks, but there is also a part of him that knows he has no real choice -- it’s no longer a matter of if, but when. He can’t force off the yearning to leave this all behind for much longer.

He sinks his sword into the ground. “Instead of being slaughtered by these monsters,” he whispers, “let’s cut our stomachs and die like true samurai.”

There is silence. Gintoki knows the weight of his words.

And then Gintoki gets a knee under himself, and starts to lever his body from the ground. The movement catches Katsura’s attention, but not so much as, “Screw that. Get up.”

He twists, watches Gintoki force himself to his feet, grip his katana with renewed strength. The warmth that comes off of him is stronger now, and more intense. He’s like the sun, setting Katsura on fire.

“If you have time to dream of a beautiful death,” Gintoki says, voice low and angry, “then why not just live your life beautifully till the end?”

Katsura breathes. Gintoki steels himself, glances back over his shoulder. “Let’s go, Zura.”

Katsura whips his head back around, stares at where his sword is still stuck in the ground. His lungs fill a little easier.

He closes his eyes. “It’s not Zura,” he says, as he forces himself to his feet. “It’s Katsura.”


	3. cosplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm embarrassed... Some kind of vaguely explicit sexual content here, but not much. Nothing actually happens.

“Why couldn’t I be Naruto?” Gintoki whines, and then whines again, wordlessly and in a slightly different tone, because Zura is very good with his hands.

“Naruto is a child,” Zura says. He has Gintoki pressed very close to the stall door, one knee between Gintoki’s, fingers inside him warm and wet.

“Okay, then…” Gintoki struggles to think of anyone else, but the only characters coming to mind are other shounen protagonists, none of which will satisfy Zura’s rule of ‘old enough to make decisions regarding their sexual autonomy’, and besides, Zura is a very distract sight, and feel, and… other things. Gintoki is having trouble making lists.

“Then?” Zura questions.

“Kakashi,” Gintoki blurts, because he can’t think of anything else, and Zura snorts, a beautifully dignified sound in the echoing silence of the bathroom.

“I suppose he would be more likely to attend an event like this,” Zura muses. “But I think the ears suit you.” He tugs one, which tugs on Gintoki’s hair because of the contrived way they’re attached to his head, and he yelps a little, and then _immediately_ regrets this whole adventure a little bit more because 1. he just made a very loud noise in the middle of the bathroom where Zura currently has two fingers up his ass, 2. he has fucking _wolf ears_ attached to his head, and 3. he just thought the word “yelp” while at a furry convention.

Although, he thinks, he probably got the better half of the deal -- Zura’s the one dressed up for a maid cafe, cat ears and all, and sure, he plays up the blushing little girl thing pretty well, but Gintoki can’t imagine how he’s having fun.

Except that he evidently is, because he keeps playing with the edge of the tail clipped on to Gintoki’s pants with his free hand, guiding Gintoki’s hands underneath the skirt of his dress, biting his lip like he never does. Gintoki is very distracted by Zura’s fingers or else he might have realized what it means sooner.

“No,” he whispers, and drops his head onto Zura’s shoulder.

“Already?” Zura says, with surprise. “Honestly, Gintoki, you’re not a teenager any--”

“ _Noo_ ,” Gintoki whines. “No, why couldn’t you just be into bondage or something?”

“What are you…?”

“You’re a fucking furry!” Gintoki moans, and… well. He probably shouldn’t be surprised when the whole thing ends with him getting hit in the face with a roll of toilet paper.


	4. yorozura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha... Can you tell what my favorite prompt this week is?

Some days, he wakes up, and he’s fine. The phone rings and Shinpachi is already there to answer it, but he hasn’t bothered to wake Gintoki up because there hasn’t been a reason to, and Kagura is already fed, and the sun comes in through the windows and everything is warm and slow.

Other days, he opens his eyes with the sound of steel on steel ringing in his ears, and his body is heavy when he sits up. The sun hasn’t risen and even Shinpachi won’t be awake for hours -- the only noise is Kagura’s snoring from her little closet room. Waking up this early should make him feel elated, filled with the excitement of getting to lay his head back down and fall back to sleep, but despite the exhaustion deep in his chest, he knows he won’t be closing his eyes for a while.

He stumbles out into the main room, keeps the lights off as he digs for his milk at the back of the fridge. It’ll go bad in a couple of days anyway, so he dumps himself two glasses and carries them both out to the couch, where he flops down and turns on the TV with the volume all the way down so he doesn’t wake the brat.

And he stays like that, blearily watching news story after infomercial after drama until the sun starts to rise. Somewhere, Shinpachi will be waking up, he knows, rolling away his futon and starting out toward the yorozuya. Gintoki lets his head fall back against the couch.

Minutes or hours pass, and there’s a knock at the door. He grunts, sits up slowly. It’s too early for Shinpachi, and besides, he would just walk in anyway. Too early for customers, too -- anyone who knows enough of the yorozuya’s business practices knows not to come calling before ten.

But the weariness in his stomach is enough to keep him pressed to the couch. Whoever it is, if it’s important, they’ll come back later.

Another knock. He lets his head drop back to the couch.

The door slides open. Before he’s even thinking about it, he’s at the desk, snatching his bokutou from where it leans against the wall, and steps around the couch in two long strides to press his back to the wall, hidden from view of the door. He breathes, long and slow and quiet.

“I know you’re there, Gintoki,” Zura calls soft and low, and it washes over Gintoki like a slow wave, his muscles slowly relaxing.

He steps around the corner and props his bokutou on one shoulder, doing his best to hide his embarrassment. “Don’t go barging into other people’s houses, oi, maybe then you won’t get attacked.”

Zura tucks his hands in his sleeves and frowns. “It’s not your house unless you own it.”

Gintoki stifles a groan, afraid the noise will wake Kagura. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah.” Zura untucks one arm from a sleeve and a long trace of blood drips to the floor. “I need some help.”

“You fucking idiot,” Gintoki says, and grabs Zura by the collar to drag him to the couch. He leaves him for a moment and comes back with bandages and a needle and thread -- he never used to keep this shit around until Shinpachi started to insist, after a few too many on the job injuries.

Zura is holding his arm very gently when Gintoki returns. “What the hell did you do this time?” he asks, dropping to the floor to kneel between his legs, taking Zura’s arm from him. He wipes the blood away, ignores Zura’s wince. 

“I won’t trouble you with things you’re not interested in,” the wig says, which is Zura language for ‘I was blowing something up or fighting some government official and I don’t want you to get involved so I’m not actually going to tell you what happened until it ends up on the news and the Shinsengumi come knocking on your door looking for me again.’

Gintoki snorts as he threads the needle. “You’re an idiot,” he says, which is Gintoki language for ‘Stop giving me heart attacks by breaking into my house and then asking me to patch up your injuries.’

“I’m sorry,” Zura says, which is Zura language for… well. For ‘I’m sorry.’

They both fall into silence while GIntoki finishes sewing him up and then carefully wrapping his arm with bandages. Zura makes a fist afterwards and then murmurs, “Thank you.”

Gintoki sighs. “Get out of here before the brat wakes up.”

“Mmm,” Zura hums and stands, almost at the exact same time that the front door slides open.

It’s honestly just part of Shinpachi’s character that he would walk in at the exact moment that Zura is standing and Gintoki is still on his knees in front of him, and Gintoki really shouldn’t be surprised that he yells in response, because it really would be a compromising position if anything was actually going on, and he really shouldn’t be surprised that it wakes up Kagura, either.

“Gin-san!” Shinpachi whines, covering his eyes and turning away. “That’s disgusting!”

“Zura!” Kagura gasps as she throws open the door to her closet. “You would let him dirty you like that? That’s disgusting!”

Gintoki groans and drops his head against Zura’s leg, which probably doesn’t help his case, but he doesn’t have anything else nearby to hit himself in the face with, so it’ll have to work. “I’m disbanding the yorozuya. You’re both fired.”

“You can’t fire us if you never pay us,” Shinpachi says as he walks in, eyes carefully averted. “I’ll give you two a few moments to make yourself decent, but then we have work to do!” And with that, he disappears into the kitchen.

“It’s too early for this,” Kagura whines. She falls out of her closet and stomps into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

“I hate you,” Gintoki says against Zura’s thigh. “You’re banned from ever coming into my house again.”

“I don’t think I need to remind you that it’s not your house unless you own it,” Zura says. His fingers land lightly on Gintoki’s hair. “You might want to get your face away from there if you want them not to throw another fit.”

“I hate you,” Gintoki says again, but he drags himself to his feet and stumbles into the kitchen, where Shinpachi is organizing food for breakfast.

“You’re cooking?” he asks with some surprise.

Shinpachi gives him an evil eye. “Well, since you clearly were too busy to do it yourself.”

There’s no point in telling him otherwise, Gintoki decides, and besides, it’s funnier if he keeps him thinking that way. “Ahh, Pattsuan, you’ll understand one day,” he sighs. “Women and wigs are insatiable.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Zura declares as he steps in behind him. He drops the leftover medical supplies into Gintoki’s hands. “You left these on the coffee table.”

Gintoki can see the tension drain out of Shinpachi as he realizes the whole thing was a misunderstanding. “Oh, thank god,” he mumbles, and turns back to the food.

Kagura skips in a moment later and latches herself onto Zura, who reacts with only the slightest wince when she clamps onto his injured arm. “Is Zura coming on a job with us?” she asks excitedly.

“Zura’s going home before we all get arrested for harboring a terrorist,” Gintoki says, prying her off before she can do more damage than has already been done. She climbs Gintoki instead, clinging to his back. He doesn’t bother fighting it.

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura,” the aforementioned terrorist cuts in. “But if you don’t mind, I probably should lay low for a day or two.”

“I don’t think going on jobs with us counts as laying low,” Shinpachi says, a bit worriedly. Gintoki frowns and wonders when any of them started worrying about Zura (he knows the answer).

“Then stay here and clean,” Gintoki says, looping an arm around Zura’s shoulders, if for no other reason than because the motion makes Kagura giggle as she tries to hold on. “Shinpachi won’t have a chance, since we’ll be out all day. You can pay me back for saving your life by picking up after this monster.”

“I’m a mess,” Kagura agrees.

“Gin-san does the worst of it,” Shinpachi complains.

“That, too!” Kagura agrees.

“I hate both of you,” Gintoki says. “I hate all of you.”

Zura laughs, low in his throat, and it’s like that wave of relaxation from before. Gintoki catches hold of Shinpachi as he tries to walk past by an elbow and tucks him under his shoulder. “Weren’t you just complaining about not getting paid? And now you’re giving good old Gin-san grief for making a little mess in his own home?”

“It’s not--”

“If you tell me it’s not my house,” Gintoki says, turning his head to look Zura in the eyes, “I will absolutely call the Shinsengumi right now.”

Zura huffs, and Shinpachi sighs, and Kagura laughs like a hyena, and the sound of ringing steel dies away.


	5. cats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Middle school AU? High school AU? Something like that. Also, if you don't know what [books](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warriors_\(novel_series\)) Zura's reading...

Zura comes to class one day with a strange look on his face -- pensive, Gintoki would think, if his vocabulary was expansive enough for that, but instead he just thinks he looks stupid.

The long-haired boy pays him no attention as he sits down, pulls out his notebook and pencil. Gintoki waits for a hello, but gets nothing. He clears his throat. Zura taps his pencil against the desk, staring into space. Gintoki bumps an elbow against his. Zura lets out a long sigh.

“Oi,” Gintoki says, poking Zura in the side, but still gets no response. “Oiii… Zura!”

Zura jumps, looks over with a frown. “It’s not Zura, it--”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gintoki says, waving it away. He lays his head down on the desk and narrows his eyes at the other boy. “What’re you thinkin’ so hard about? You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Did you learn that one from Takasugi?” Zura asks, deadpan. He looks away. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s not your kind of thing.”

“What does that mean?” Gintoki asks, offended. “I’d understand! You couldn’t know that!”

“Very well,” Zura says, and starts to reach for his things. “I was reading--”

“Oh god, never mind,” Gintoki groans. He picks up his head just enough to drop it onto his arm. “I shoulda known.”

“I did warn you,” Zura says. He picks up his pencil and begins sketching something in the corner of his notebook. Gintoki sighs. It should end there.

* * *

But it doesn’t. The next day, Zura comes in with the same pensive look on his face, only this time he’s got his nose buried in some book, and he nearly trips over a chair that’s hanging a little too far away from the desk it belongs to.

“You’re even more of a menace to society than usual,” Gintoki says, tugging on Zura’s hair. “What the hell are you reading that’s got you so interested, huh? What could be so stupid that even you’d read it?”

“You say that as if you have ever read more than 140 characters at a time,” Zura says as he smacks Gintoki’s hand away. “It wouldn’t interest you.”

“Oh come on.” Gintoki grins, propping his chin on one hand as he watches Zura pull his things out for the start of class. “You can tell me. You got some dirty doujinshi hidden in there, is that it? Look, I promise I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret, as long as you share.”

“It’s about cats,” Zura says.

Gintoki pauses. “...didn’t know that was your kinda thing.”

And Zura sighs. “Never mind.”

* * *

Except that’s _still_ not the end of it, because the next day, Zura comes in to class, reading again, but this time he somehow manages to avoid the chair. Not that it matters, because he’s so absorbed in whatever the hell it is that he won’t talk to Gintoki at all, no matter how much Gintoki elbows and kicks. It leaves a sour taste in Gintoki’s mouth all morning until lunch.

“Oiii, Zuraaaa…” he whines while half the class files out to get food. He reaches for the long hair, but misses, because the asshole is bent over his desk again, nose stuck in the stupid fucking book. “Zura, pay attention to me! I’m lonelyy…”

Zura blinks down at the page, whispers “no.”

“No?” Gintoki demands. “What do you mean no? I’m your best friend! I’m your _only_ friend, unless you count Takasugi, and really, who would?”

Something hits him in the back of the head, and he turns around for half a second to glare at the eyepatched kid in the back of class who’s now staring inconspicuously out the window. He whirls back around a second later. “What the hell do you mean, no?” he demands again.

“Firestar can’t die,” Zura whispers. “He’s the hero of the clans! That’s not fair! Without him, they would all be dead!”

“Are you talking about your fucking book?!”

“Gintoki,” Zura says, and when he looks up, he has tears in his eyes. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Gintoki stares back at him, without a clue as to what to say.

“You should read these,” Zura says sadly. “You might like them. The main character has a weird hair color.” He pauses, then adds thoughtfully, “And no one likes him.”

Gintoki lays his head down on his arms so that they can muffle his screams.


	6. promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge spoilers for Shogun Assassination and Farewell, Shinsengumi arcs.

There is a moment -- brief, short, just a flash, really -- that they get to themselves. A split second at the yorozuya, while Gintoki dries his hair and kicks a small mess into a corner, and Katsura sits on the couch, waits for him to finish.

Gintoki drops onto the couch, drops his head into Katsura’s lap. Katsura drops his fingers into Gintoki’s hair. There isn’t much thought in it. They’re tired. Gintoki’s fingers curl in the edge of Katsura’s kimono.

“What if we just don’t go,” Gintoki mumbles against Katsura’s leg.

Katsura considers it for a moment, drawing his fingers slow through the mess of Gintoki’s hair. “I suspect it wouldn’t turn out as well as we would like.”

Gintoki takes a deep breath, turns his head so his face is hidden among folds of blue. “This is fucking stupid.”

Katsura doesn’t know how to tell him he agrees. He tries his best to provide some sort of silent comfort.

“I’m so fucking tired, Zura,” Gintoki says, and for half a second, Katsura sees a battlefield, blood, swords that never come clean. He blinks, and the yorozuya comes back into focus.

The words “take a nap” are on the tip of his tongue, along with “it’s not Zura”, but he holds them back. He slides a thumb behind Gintoki’s ear. “I know,” he says. He’s tired, too.

For a long time, Gintoki just lays there, and Katsura almost hopes he’ll fall asleep. Maybe, if Gintoki passes out, he can just call Shinpachi and Kagura here, and they’ll take care of him while Katsura leaves to do what needs to be done. There’s no need for Gintoki to face Takasugi, no need for him to face _anyone_. Something burns in Katsura’s chest at the thought of the coming confrontations, the wear they will put on Gintoki’s already ragged mind.

“Let me help,” he wants to say, but doesn’t. Gintoki promised, so long ago, to carry Katsura’s burden, to let him live and be himself, without fear -- _I’ll be your general,_ he said. And Katsura returned the favor, swearing to shoulder Gintoki’s burden as well, swearing to protect what he found here. Ragged as he is, Gintoki was never meant for the battlefield. He was meant for lazy mornings and two loud kids and a dog that eats too much, and Katsura will die protecting that if he has to.

Gintoki shifts against him, and Katsura holds his breath, prays that the moment will not break, but Gintoki just readjusts an arm, sighs, and stays where he is. Katsura’s tension fades.

There is resolve in the very core of him -- this place, these people… Katsura will protect them, if for no other reason than because Gintoki deserves them. _I’ll be your general,_ Gintoki said, and _I’ll be your left arm,_ Katsura said back, fifteen years later, and on a roof less than twenty-four hours ago, Katsura made one more promise. _I cannot make you cut down your master again._ And Gintoki didn’t even fight it.

Knowing Gintoki, he’ll try. But Katsura won’t let him be haunted by that choice again -- the choice between everything he has found here, and the man who saved him. Katsura will make it for him, he won’t let that death taint what Gintoki has. Not again.

Gintoki shifts again, groans. “We should go.”

Katsura combs a piece of Gintoki’s hair into place, though it springs back a moment later. “I have to speak with Elizabeth. I’ll meet you there.”

Gintoki rolls onto his back, frowns up at him. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” Katsura says, in what he’s sure is his most convincing voice.

Gintoki rolls his eyes. “Sure,” he says, and he lifts a hand to Katsura’s face, pulls him down to kiss him.

Katsura pulls away first, feeling his face turn red. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Gintoki mocks him, then sticks out his tongue. “Call it a promise.”

Katsura spends a split second panicking over whether Gintoki has suddenly developed the ability to read minds, and swallows hard. “What are we promising?”

“We’re both coming back here,” Gintoki says, and there’s something in his voice, low and warm, that tells Katsura there’s something more there than what he’s saying out loud. “Right here. On the fucking couch. Downstairs at the bar. On the floor. I don’t care. Everywhere.”

“Are you talking about after we take care of this, or sex?” Katsura asks.

“I hate you,” Gintoki says, but there’s no bitterness to it. “The first one. Both of them. Fuck you.”

“That does seem to be what you were getting at,” Katsura agrees. Gintoki groans and sits up. His hair is even more of a mess where it was pressed against Katsura’s leg.

“I hate you,” Gintoki says again. His fingers brush Katsura’s. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”


	7. modern au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few minutes late because I have too many AUs to choose from... And then this one came out of nowhere. There's a lot of the word "stupid", if that bothers you, but it's mostly self-directed.

“Right…” Gintoki says, slowly. He taps the page, looks up. Takasugi has fallen asleep on his book. Sakamoto is in the kitchen somewhere, looking for snacks. Zura is waiting expectantly.

“So?” he says. “What does that tell you?”

Gintoki spins his pencil once, twice. He takes a deep breath. “I have no fucking clue.”

Zura groans and drops his head into his hands. “I’ve explained it three times.”

“Yeah, well, you suck at at explaining,” Gintoki complains as he sits back in his chair. “That’s not my fault.”

“You’re making it more complicated than it needs to be,” Zura says. He grabs Gintoki’s textbook again, drags it over to stab a finger at the diagram. “What is that?”

“A picture,” Gintoki says, and when Zura rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in the air, he protests, “I don’t know! I’m sorry I don’t get it, I’m a fucking idiot, I know!”

“I didn’t say that,” Zura snaps, and Takasugi groans from his book pillow.

“Shut _up_ ,” he whines. “Some of us have already _finished_ studying.”

“I’m done, too,” Gintoki decides. He snaps the textbook shut, narrowly missing Zura’s fingers, but not missing the glare he shoots him.

“You’re not done until you understand it,” Zura says. He opens the textbook again to start flipping through.

“Takasugi doesn’t understand it!” Gintoki protests.

“And Takasugi isn’t going to fail this class if he doesn’t pass this exam,” Zura says. He shoves the textbook at Gintoki again. “Show me what you’re not understanding.”

“Everything.”

“That doesn’t help!”

“Well neither do you!” Gintoki slams the textbook shut again. “Fuck it, whatever, I’ll fail the fucking class, who cares. It doesn’t matter, I don’t need to graduate anyway.”

“Don’t talk like--” Zura starts, but Gintoki waves his hands in his face before he can finish.

“I don’t care!” he says, emphasizing each word. “I literally don’t care. It literally doesn’t matter. Don’t bother trying, there’s no fucking point.”

“Calm the fuck down,” Takasugi snaps, rolling his eyes. “You’re being a baby, just sit down and if Zura’s really that bad at explaining, Sakamoto can teach you.”

“I don’t need any of your fucking help,” Gintoki snaps. He grabs his textbook off the table and tosses it aside, grabs his backpack and heads for the door.

He runs into Sakamoto on his way back from the kitchen, a spoon hanging from his mouth. “Whoa, whoa, where you goin’?” he laughs, their shoulders bumping.

“Fuck you,” Gintoki says. He doesn’t stick around to hear his reaction.

He’s halfway down the street when he gets the first text -- Zura, of course. _Come back,_ it says. _I’m sorry, I’ll re-explain it. You know you need to pass this test, just please come back._

He ignores it. He’s waiting at the bus stop when the next one comes in, Zura again. _I know you’re you’re just being difficult to prove a point, please, just come back._ He ignores that one, too.

The third one comes in a minute before the bus pulls up -- _We’re coming to get you, just stay where you are._

He answers that one, because fuck them, honestly. _Fuck you, honestly,_ he sends, and then he turns his phone off.

It’s stupid, probably, and Zura’s probably right. He’s just being a baby about the whole thing to prove some stupid fucking point, but he can’t bring himself to care. The whole thing is stupid. School is stupid, the class is stupid, the test is stupid, Zura’s stupid, Takasugi’s stupid, _Gintoki’s_ stupid. It’s all stupid, and he doesn’t care.

He ignores Shouyou’s greeting when he gets home, heads up the stairs and slams the door behind him. There’s a gentle knock a few minutes later, but he pretends he didn’t hear it while he changes out of his uniform and into pajamas. He’s got the blankets pulled halfway up to his ears when a voice calls through the door, “Dinner will be ready in an hour, if you’re hungry.”

It’s an open invitation -- an offering. ‘If you want to talk,’ he’s saying, ‘I’m here.’ As if talking has ever solved any of Gintoki’s problems.

He pulls the blankets up the rest of the way and doesn’t answer.

When he wakes up, it’s dark out and he feels miserable. His head is foggy, his limbs are heavy, his bladder is killing him, and his stomach is demanding food louder than his alarm in the morning. He groans, rolls over and tries to shake some life back into himself.

He stumbles to the bathroom, then downstairs where the clock tells him it’s almost midnight. Shouyou is probably long asleep, he knows, but there’s a plate sitting in the fridge covered in plastic wrap with a note that just says 'Gintoki.' Feeling more than a little bitter at himself, he shoves it in the microwave and takes it upstairs, where he drops onto his bed and reluctantly reaches to turn his phone on.

After the long time it takes for it to turn back on, it only takes a minute for the notifications to start rolling in, and he silences it before the buzzing can irritate him any more than he already is. When it finally ends, he grudgingly scrolls through the texts, only skimming, but he reads enough to get a general feel for what’s going on.

_ Why aren’t you at the bus stop? I told you to wait there. _

_ I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, I’m only trying to help. You know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t care. _

_ can you stop being an asshole and just text zura back oh my god _

_ kintokiiiiiii _

_ Did you turn your phone off? _

_ im wasting gas driving around looking for u :( _

_ At least let me know when you get home, I just want to know you didn’t get yourself into something stupid. _

_ were going home but u should tell zura ur ok lol _

_ I called your house. Shouyou said you were going to take a nap. Call me when you wake up. _

_ you are such a fucking piece of shit lmao grow up _

_ I'm sorry I didn't explain better, I didn't mean to make you mad. I should have been more patient. I wasn't being fair to you. I know you st _

_ ruggle with these concepts sometimes and I should have taken that into account and I didn't and I'm sorry. Please just let me say sorry or l _

_ et me know that everything is okay. I'm sorry, I love you. You don’t have to call. _

And god, he just has to do that, doesn’t he? Because now Gintoki feels like shit. Of course Zura fucking blames himself, just like he always does for every little thing, and of course what should’ve been a two second issue got blown out of proportion because Zura decided it was his fault, when everyone else can see it’s Gintoki’s.

He drags fingers through his hair (or tries to, stops when they get caught in the mess), groans, and gives in, hitting the dial button and pressing the phone to his ear.

It only rings once before he picks up. “I said you didn’t have to call.”

“Yeah, well, I am.” He falls over, letting his head land on the pillow, and rolls onto his side. “So. Yeah. Sorry.”

A pause. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yeah, I kinda do.” He snags a noodle off his plate with his fingers and drops it in his mouth, swallows before he speaks again. “Running off like that was stupid, but, you know. It’s me.”

“You’re not stupid,” Zura says, without a thought.

“Can you stop saying that for like three seconds?” Gintoki snaps. It comes out angrier than he means it to, and he bites the inside of his mouth hard. “Sorry, I…”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Zura says again.

Gintoki rolls his eyes before he remembers Zura can’t see. “If you say so.”

“I should have--”

“We both should’ve done shit differently,” Gintoki cuts him off. “Just let it go. It’s fine. I forgive you for trying to help.”

“Then I forgive you for being rightfully frustrated with material you don’t understand,” Zura says.

Gintoki groans. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Silence. “I love you.”

His face goes hot, not that he wants to admit it. “Yeah, whatever.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

He rubs at his cheeks like that will somehow make the heat go away. “I love you too, asshole.”


End file.
